


Almost Only Counts In Horseshoes And Hand Grenades

by Anonomeis



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9233516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonomeis/pseuds/Anonomeis
Summary: Junkrat notices that Mei doesn't smile when he's around. He attempts to rectify this. Attempts being the key word here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [Junkrat's various emotes and stuff](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=voG_lZruX40).
> 
>  
> 
> The lore and the actual gameplay don't really intersect this much, but this was my attempt to figure out how much of it did when I first got into the series several months ago. Consistentlyaverage beted this.

His last attempt at going legit hadn't turned out so well, but this one wasn't too bad so far. He got four walls, a roof over his head, guaranteed meals, and all the explosives he wanted. Even better, they kept him safe from the cops, at least for a little while longer. 

 

And when it came to why Overwatch wanted him to kill holographic clones of himself and others, well, asking a client just wasn't good business sense. His guess was training, but training for what? Again, keeping secrets was something he'd gotten relatively good at over the years. If they wanted to throw away money for some training exercise, and make him come along for the ride, then as long as he got his, he'd be happy to blow things up all damn day.

 

And it was all coming up ticking bombs (the best kind) except for one little thing.

 

There was one little sheila who always looked like she'd smelt some massive fart when he was around; even if she had just been laughing seconds before, the moment she laid eyes on him, her mouth would look like she'd been sucking on lemons. 

 

He didn't have the best memory. The radiation had taken a lot of things over the years. The bombs had done away with the rest. It meant he lived in the moment, forgot grudges (and occasionally names). He was pretty sure they didn't have one of those fancy rivalries that were all the rage these days. She could probably recite the periodic table at him backwards, but he'd yet to see any ice bombs shoved down his shorts.

 

Junkrat would've just shaken it off - he didn't get to where he was by letting his _feelings_ get hurt every time someone told him he was awful, that he deserved to go to jail, or smelled like a dead rat. But outside of this, she was a right sunny sheila, full of smiles and kindness. Even for the ones he knew had gotten their hands dirty.

 

And it was like an itch that he couldn't quite scratch, this feeling that she could be smiling, and wasn't. And like crossing a wire and things going _ka-blam_ , he just couldn't let it go. 

 

It wasn't like he started with a plan; the balls just fell into place. Which pretty much summed up his life as a whole, if he thought about it.

 

~

 

The courtyard looked more like Overwatch had stolen a whole café and put it up right in the middle of the whole building. If they had managed to actually do that, he had to really hand them one; a whole damn café was one thing he’d never managed to slip into his pocket. There were several of those little metal tables and chairs, all filled with squiggly white vine-y decorations, and the top was completely open. Maybe he'd befriend any birds which came in, Junkrat thought. All it would take was some birdseed. Maybe he could even get them eating out of his hand eventually, if he tried.

 

Laughter distracted him from his avian plans. She sat on the far edge of the courtyard, laughing with that fast one, with the Cockney accent. Junkrat wasn't much for learning names. Names made him a witness, and formed bonds. If he just started giving them nicknames, then nobody could pull him in and force him to rat out the rest. "Cupcake" and "Tall guy" didn't cut it when people, usually wearing blue, were demanding names. Accomplices, the chemicals he used, why he blew up an ice cream shop and vandalized half a city.

 

They always had these _questions_.

 

Despite his name, Junkrat wasn't about to tell any tales on his fellow criminals; the _rat_ part of his name didn't refer to him talking to the cops. And with Overwatch, they were always dancing on the edge between legit and not. Just a few years back, they'd been the bane of everyone, the dethroned king left in exile. Now, everyone loved them again.

 

Most everyone, at least.

 

He considered the bombs, and looked back. He'd done this before, because of alcohol, boredom, to distract people, so Roadhog could get the best of them. Neither of them were exactly built for stealth, but Junkrat knew one thing intimately: fire off a big enough explosion, and anyone can be missed in the wake of all that chaos.

 

He tossed three little bombs in the air. He caught them, one by one. It was complicated to keep them in the air, but for a second, he had her eye. Of course, it was just a few seconds before they were hitting the ground, and he was hunched down, wondering if he’d have two prosthetic legs before the day was done. Then he'd be a double pirate. He'd have to finally get a pirate hat to complete the outfit one of these days.

 

And, nothing. She didn't even look. A life in Australia had taught him how to reuse shrapnel, but lately with all the high-tech goods he had access to, there was nothing left but ash. He drew a little smiley face in the dust.

 

~

 

For round two, Junkrat climbed up right on top of that tire bomb, and lifted up one of his flat bombs like it was a hat. He started to do a showman's dance, cackling with each kick. Her face remained completely blank. Mei went straight back to her tea and conversation. He couldn't quite see through her glasses with the glare of the sun. But considering that she walked out before the show was done - it didn't take a degree in theater for him to get the message.

 

Apparently, she wasn't a fan of musicals.

 

But clapping rose up from that fast girl. "Do you take requests? It's time for an encore!"

 

He tipped his 'hat' to her, and broke into laughter. "The show must go on!"

 

He took a steel trap and started this _great_ comedy show. He'd almost written one of those, once, while drunk off his ass. But the next day he only found 'bomb' fiffteen times in a row on a notepad. If he'd even published it, he had a feeling that it would've _bombed_ , or maybe _been a flash in the pan._

 

Then again, it could've _brought the house down_.

 

He broke out laughing at his own wit. When he turned, he saw that he'd been making shadow puppets across the wall. Double the entertainment for the price of none.

 

Apparently, she wasn't a fan of puppets, either. At least he didn't almost lose a finger this time, like the last time he played shadow puppets.

 

~

 

Act three had Junkat just past the tables. He sipped on some bubble tea - wonderful stuff. Even better, he got all of it he wanted, because somebody in the building really loved it and kept it around. He'd have to thank whoever they were.

 

And it came to mind, that all this veiled points of some nefarious organization and training against holograms was nothing if they didn't take a break or two, or maybe even three.

 

"Hey, let's all go to the beach! There's one right down here. Right forget the name of it, but the one down the way a bit--"

 

Mei narrowed her eyes at him. "That's a nudist beach."

 

"Wait, what? Nude beach?" He broke out laughing. 

 

Tracer laughed behind him. "Oh, I see your plot now. You're a right cheeky one."

 

"Hey now, it's an honest mistake; anyone could make it," Junkrat said.

 

Most of them laughed it off, but Mei's icy glance was intense, and like a icicle to the chest.

 

Just because he had a criminal record that included _public nudity and acts of lewdness with a weapon_ didn't mean he had plans. At least not until the fifth date, maybe twelfth. He could be a gentleman sometimes, really.

 

He felt like he'd hit a wall. Date? Obviously he'd been blown silly, because dating was never on the plan. His plan had always been clearly _act like a complete arse to make that sheila crack a smile._ No romance, nothing but him making pratfalls and there being no weird tension.

 

It had nothing to do with going out with her for ice cream, maybe planning some small heists together, and then making really beautiful explosives, while their flirty banter mostly comprised of reciting the periodic table at each other.

 

Junkrat shook his head. Maybe he'd taken a few too many hits to the head recently.

 

~

 

He and Roadhog had an adjoining place, a real nice one, not at all like the radiation-filled shacks in the desert, or the dirty motels they'd stayed in over the years. White curtains, white cupboards--there was a lot of white, never a good idea with Junkrat around. It was a nice little apartment, two bedrooms, one bathroom, and he didn't even have to pay rent. Hell, they paid _him_ to work here. He was still looking for the catch--Probably it was all some trap to get him to drop his guard and talk about the grand treasure, but Junkrat knew how to work these things. And he was going to make this legit job last as long as it could.

 

"Hell's going to freeze over before she smiles at me." He tapped his lower lip. Technically, she _did_ have a freeze gun. Maybe he could borrow it, put hell on ice, and _then_ get a grin out of her. 

 

Junkrat took up most of their giant brown couch. A teacup was in hand, one with flowers and little vines. Vines seemed a popular motif around here.

 

Junkrat sat beside him in the little space left. It was a good thing he was scrawny as hell, considering they'd never get to share anything if he was even just a little bit bigger.

 

He let out a sigh. "Roadhog, I don't get this sheila. I almost blew my balls off and everything, and not even a smile. I mean, what's funnier than a pratfall? A guy almost blowing his balls off, that's what. Half the place around laughed. I even got a smile out of that sad dragon guy. Funniest thing around, and she didn't even crack a grin."

 

Now Roadhog, he was never much of a talker. Junkrat had to generally do most of the talking for both of them.

 

"...have you considered shutting up and taking a shower?"

 

"A _shower?_ That's awful drastic measures, mate. But desperate times call for desperate measures." He patted Roadhog on the shoulder. It took some doing, with Roadhog being about roughly five times his size and all. But that's why ladders were invented: so he could cuff his mate on the shoulder.

 

"All right, see you in...oh hell, I don't know how long this will take. It might be a while."

 

Roadhog didn't reply, but Junkrat was used to that as well. Still waters run deep and all.

 

"Just don't blow up the shower this time."

 

"I'm not taking my bombs into the shower, mate. They wouldn't like that. You know I'd never waste a good bomb with some _water_. It'd hurt their feelings, not even being able to have a nice ka-boom." Junkrat shook his head. 

 

Junkrat checked one last time to make sure his bombs were safe and dry before he went. He tucked them in, with a blanket, and tapped them. "Now, you be good while I get clean. No going off. That's a good bomb."

 

"Take good care of them while I'm gone,"

 

"It's just a shower, not the end of the world," Roadhog said.

 

"You say that, but you're not the one facing the stall!" Junkrat laughed at his own joke, or sort of joke, and closed the bathroom door behind him.

 

~

 

Two hours later, Junkrat returned, and damn if he didn't sparkle.

 

Roadhog grunted. "You used up the hot water for the entire building."

 

"Yeah, it took a while. My hair's falling out again," Junkrat said. "Almost clogged the drain up solid. Don't worry, I pulled it all out, just like you told me."

 

'Told' was more pointed out that he'd use that hook on him if Junkrat didn't start leaving the bathroom in better shape. Roadie was all about clean rooms. Most of their fights were him blowing up toilets by accident and Roadhog being none too happy about it.

 

"Did you remember to take your iodine?" Roadhog said.

 

"It smells like fish food," Junkrat said petulantly.

 

"Mercy will have your hide if you don't take your pills," Roadhog said.

 

"I won't make much of a rug now, will I? Not much of a blanket, either. But maybe she could make a lampshade..." Junkrat laughed, and pulled the pills and a water bottle from under the white cupboards. Really, clean water and a working toilet? This was some kind of damn luxury.

 

He gripped his nose to try and cut down on the strong taste.

 

He shook his head. "That'll put some hair on my chest--or even on my head. Who knows, miracles could happen. All right, I'm reasonably clean, and ready to go. Operation Smileflake is on!"

 

Roadhog didn't ask. He was good about things like that. Secrets, not asking, not talking, telling him to shut up and stop talking. His greatest hits of not talking were all the times the cops got ahold of them. He was a damn _wall_ when inside prison. And nobody wanted to be on the wrong side of someone who could rip them in half without even trying.

 

"You know, Operation Smileflake--the one I've been telling you about for ages. Oh, fine, you big lug. Just wish me luck, would you?"

 

"Break a leg," Roadhog said.

 

Junkrat gave him a thumbs up, before he went off as nonchalantly as he could manage.

 

~

 

He caught her down near the library. Mei read straight through some thick book which he couldn't quite see, but looked awful impressive. Even better, it would've really fixed that uneven table in his rooms. Maybe he'd have to borrow it from the library sometime.

 

Junkrat sped up as he eagerly came to her side. "G'day!"

 

She looked up, with a hint of wariness, as he waved her way. "Good afternoon," she said.

 

This time, she didn't pull away with a full body shudder, and looked as if somebody had just thrown a stink bomb in her face. She didn't exactly break into a grin and start skipping through flowers (that were also bombs and exploded into glitter) but as far as he was concerned, it was progress.

 

~

 

"Apparently, showering is a _good_ thing. Made some right progress today. Gotta remember that. Maybe I'll… make one of those things, with the post-it notes? Yeah. Or maybe a tattoo would last longer. It'd be harder to lose it."

 

"It took you twenty-five years to learn this?" Roadhog muttered. He shook his head.

 

"I guess it's enough for now, but I got to figure out how to crack this. There's got to be _something_ I can do. I already showed my best comedy gold, and nothing. Not even a chuckle."

 

"Why do you care?" Roadhog said.

 

"Why do I--"

 

He fell silent at that. He very well had eyes--for now, anyways--and sure she was nice to look at. He wasn't the sort to be tied down--except with _chains to the bed_ , as he liked to say. If somebody thought he was a bully, then so be it. Plenty of people thought he had some great secret treasure, and others thought he was guilty of extortion, robbery, murder, grand theft auto, arson, public drunkenness, public urination, public defacing of property, destruction of property, public nudity, public lewd acts involving a dangerous weapon, aggravated assault, theft of livestock, public indecency, trespassing, and jaywalking. 

 

And he'd never paid much mind to them, not even when they tried to slap handcuffs on him and get his 'class pictures' taken, as he liked to call the line ups. So what? He'd just blow himself out. No jail had ever been able to keep him for long. He always found his way back to the explosions. A simple bomb could be made just with cleaning products. Bleach and ammonia could be mixed together, and become right deadly. Even Windex had its uses, when sprayed in the eyes.

 

But a little sheila with a coat so big she could make a tent out of it had him running around, trying to get her to smile, and even showering regularly. What the hell was the world coming to?

 

He held up one finger--not his usual favorite finger, just an index--and tried to explain it, only to find it couldn't well be explained.

 

"Because I bloody landed on my head a few too many times, that's why."

 

He tried to laugh it off, but it stayed, like some shrapnel caught in his skin.

 

"It's not like I'm _sweet_ on her or anything. _Please,_ the thought is laughable, laughable! It's so laughable, I can't help but _laugh_." He cackled on--the idea really was damned preposterous. Him, sweet on somebody. His rap sheet was taller than she was. So what if she had a smile like everything good he'd never quite had? So what if she had some damn sweet curves, and enough brains to build a dozen bombs, probably from scratch, just by reciting the periodic table at them. It wasn't his business. Really.

 

Roadhog grunted. "I said nothing."

 

~

 

Junkrat wandered out after that, to hit the vending machines. His usual vending machine runs involved bombs, and Roadhog punching things. These days, he was trying to be just a little more legit, so he inserted a bit of coin and pressed down the buttons. 

 

Nothing happened. He kicked at the bottom. "C'mon, you hunk of trash. Give me my food!" 

 

The bar wiggled a bit. Junkrat swore under his breath as he rocked the vending machine back and forth.

 

"Ugh, you're trying my patience. Now give--it--back! I paid for it, fair and square!" He kicked repeatedly at the doors, until the whole vending machine shook.

 

Finally, the bar fell down, and he bent to get it. "Can't trust these machines," Junkrat muttered. He took bites of the protein bar as he walked. It wasn't half bad, considering it was covered in chocolate, with a inside filled with peanut butter. 

 

Junkrat was still getting used to the three square meals thing. His life had never quite had regular meals. It was always feast or famine. A big heist and they'd eat well, but then they'd be on the run, and with two bombastic men like themselves, they'd have to keep it on the down low. A trench coat and hat did nothing to keep them undercover and out of jail.

 

On the way back, he caught something bright in the common room, just near one of those potted plants. He'd never seen so many trees and flowers before he'd come around here. Junkrat was used to arid deserts, not all kinds of lush flowers that always smelled good--and reminded him of how she was. Like a big daisy--at least, until he came around.

 

"Well, what do we have here?" Junkrat grinned as he picked up the wallet. 

 

Usually, stealing wallets was like nicking candy from babies--and he would know, he literally had done this, multiple times. Both the wallets, and the babies. Though only candy. Actual babies were loud, messy, and he never quite knew what he'd even do with one. He'd rather have the candy. The wallet had pandas, and a polar bear, amid a sea of little polka dots. It was so tiny, he almost figured it'd fall apart in his hands.

 

And there it was, left in the common room, just begging him to pick it up. The damned thing might as well have had _steal me_ across the top.

 

Now, cash was the easiest thing to take. Junkrat wasn't one for stealing identities. It was always so much work, you had to remember names and numbers and how to work a computer. It was much easier just to grab the money and run. He opened it up, and started to pull out the cash, when he saw a hint of dark hair in a photo on the other side. He opened up towards the cards and pulled it out.

 

 _Mei Ling Zhou._ He brushed his thumb just under her ID. She sure was a soft girl, with a big ol' smile like sunshine. Course she had some nice curves, but it was the smile that he really remembered. And everybody else got a bit of that sunshine but him.

 

With a sigh, he pushed the money back down in, and closed it up. For a second, he just stared at those little cartoon bears and polka dots. It now had greasy black spots across it. If he left it there, someone else was liable to finish what he started. He could take it to the lost and found--

 

Naw, he had to do this head on.

 

He walked down the halls, until he caught sight of her near the libraries again. Man, that girl was brainy. He sure would like to _talk science_ with her sometime. Maybe they could even make something together. Like a bomb. He just knew she'd make _gorgeous_ bombs.

 

"Hey, sheila, think fast!"

 

She looked up, and clutched the book to her chest in surprise. He tossed the wallet her way. Aim was never his strong point, because when a guy like him made a big enough boom, who needed to aim?

 

As they said, almost only counted in horseshoes and hand grenades. 

 

The wallet smacked her straight in the face. He froze, with a mutter of _oh, shit_.

 

"Oh--wasn't aiming for that, thought you'd catch it."

 

She glared at him as she bent to pick up the little polka-dot covered wallet.

 

"I have a _name_ ," she said.

 

"That you do! I found your wallet. Right there."

 

"But, I had my wallet-- Wait, you--stole my wallet, and _threw it at me?"_ Her face twisted to something far worse than disgust or anger: sadness. "You are-- _awful!_ "

 

"What? N-oooo, no, you got me all wrong! It was right over there. I didn't steal it or anything. I even left the cash in there. See?"

 

She opened up the wallet. Much to his dismay, he'd left quite a few traces. Junkrat rubbed at his neck awkwardly.

 

"Your fingerprints are all over it."

 

He had showered, but working with bombs was a messy affair, and he'd gotten his hands a bit dirty. He was always picking apart his materials, just to smell the chemicals in his hands again, that old happiness, that old comfort.

 

"I can't _read minds,_ I had to tell who to return it to, you see."

 

She looked suspiciously, and sifted through her wallet.

 

"There's spots on my money," she said.

 

"But it's still there, ain't it? You think I'd leave the money, the evidence, and then bring it to you? Hell no, I'd take it."

 

"Then this _is_ some kind of trick!"

 

"Please, if I was tricking you, I would've just taken the green and left a bomb inside. As you can see, no bombs, and you haven't lost a thing."

 

She closed the wallet and put it into her big pocket. Wow, he could fit a lot of bombs in a pocket that big. Hell, he half wondered if _his tire_ could fit into that thing. 

 

Maybe she'd let him give it a try someday.

 

"Thank you for returning my wallet. But if you think of stealing it, I'll put an ice-pick through your head," she said coldly.

 

The look she gave him made him feel like she'd put an ice pick right into his ribs.

 

"I'll be looking forward to it!"

 

She lifted one brow.

 

"Not the ice pick in the head part, the--"

 

He couldn't think of anything to say. And for a second, she burst into a smile. It was like sunshine after years of darkness. He honestly felt a little breathless. Sort of like when he was thrown by a bomb, and in that moment when he got the breath knocked out of him, and could only just bask in the flames and glory of all the destruction he'd created.

 

"Winston, there you are! Your face is all covered in peanut butter again." 

 

Winston rubbed awkwardly at his face. "I do? I'll have to--wipe that off. It's quite addictive."

 

She laughed, and it was such a light, wonderful sound. A shame he never got to hear it, he never got to cause it. Not even his best jokes and shadow puppets had made her even crack a smile, let alone chuckle.

 

She walked on. He lost track of what she said, due to the growing realization of something off. His chest felt weird. Not quite drunk, or the butterflies that came with setting off bombs, and that wonderful moment of feeling alive, dancing on the edge of death. Not hungover, or the thrill of a heist, just the _oh shit_ moment of being dragged back into prison.

 

He rubbed at his head. It didn't make the dazed feeling go away.

 

"Maybe my ticker really is off," he muttered to himself. 

 

~

 

Junkrat wasn't the type of guy to let things get him down. Sure, he'd been looking in the bookstores. He was even learning to use this thing called _Amazon_ , and it didn't even have anything to do with the river. 

 

So far his searches for _How to explain weird chest feelings that aren't wanting to barf_ and _How to make a girl smile without getting an ice pick through your eye_ hadn't brought up anything, but he wasn't about to give up so easily.

 

~

 

 _Remember your Doctor's appointment, don't forget to shower, stop blowing up the bathroom_. Honestly, without Roadie, he'd forget his own head sometimes. Junkrat found himself in another machine-filled white room, full of partitions, a few seats, and a few containers stuffed full of tongue depressors and gloves which were sadly, not free to take. He'd made that mistake the first time.

 

Though no plants this time. Maybe they got in the way of the good doctor's work? 

 

Junkrat idly kicked his legs. His prosthetic leg made a loud clank, clank, clank, to give some company to all those beeping fancy machines she had. Now, there were a few exceptions to his name rules, and that was doctor types, and Roadhog. 

 

He'd tried to just call _hey, sheila_ to Mercy before, and she had let him get a whole gut full of bullets with a damned smile on her face. After that, he figured learning names might be good for his survival.

 

Besides, he was pretty sure there was some kind of doctor-patient confidentiality thing, which meant they wouldn't be called to task about each other anytime soon.

 

Clank, clank, clank.

 

"Don't," Mercy said without looking up from the slides. She pushed her blonde hair out of her eyes, and kept reading.

 

"I'll do my best, but this one tends to go on its own," Junkrat said. He tapped his knee.

 

Mercy turned around, and lifted a page on her clipboard. She was smiling, but her eyes said _murder._ He cleared his throat and tried his best to keep that leg still.

 

"Amazingly, your heart is fine. Now, the hair loss and radiation levels are--"

 

"They're nothing new, Doc," Junkat said. His voice became a long drawl. "It's all part of being Australian."

 

Mercy's mouth pursed for a moment. "They are treatable. How you lived, I do not know. It's a good thing you joined us when you did."

 

Junkrat shrugged. The best he could guess was Lady Luck must like him a bit, because hell if he knew how he'd survived that many close calls. Maybe he should've dubbed himself Junkcat. He had to have burned through at least three lives already. Probably more.

 

"Though it's possible all your other horrific radiation poisoning is getting in the way of these readings. I'm surprised your entire body hasn't melted under the strain. Really, it's remarkable you're even still breathing. Now, tell me: when did this arrhythmia start?" 

 

"Rhythm? I haven't been dancing--"

 

"Your heart condition that you mentioned when you came in here," Mercy said.

 

"Well, it all started around that little sheila, when she told me she'd put an ice pick through my head. Well, had it before that, but that's when it got real big."

 

"Mei?" Mercy said.

 

"Mei, that's the one," Junkrat said.

 

He'd avoided her name, but as he said it, his mouth felt weird. Maybe he'd drank too much, or not enough. Maybe the radiation was making his tongue fall off. He'd have to figure out how to make a prosthetic soon enough.

 

"Well, I would guess what you're feeling is healthy _fear_. Mei is as fearsome on the training ground as she is in the library."

 

"You can say that again," Junkrat said. He'd seen her freeze their enemies and shove ice picks right through their heads, with a smile, no less.

 

"Though it happened before. I was just about to kick my tire, right? I see this huge wall go up, all glittering and stuff. And she was like some--fairy or something magical. Like that story of a white queen." He shook his head. The memory made him smile every time, like it burnt out anything bad that happened. Vending machine was part of an evil Omnic plot, and wouldn't give him the food he paid for? Just a thought of her and it'd be better. Out of beer again? There was always tomorrow, and there was always her.

 

If only she'd smile more.

 

"Oh, I see," Mercy said. She held a hand over her mouth, to stifle laughter.

 

"Yeah, it was right funny."

 

"Well, I can't help you there. You'll have to fix that on your own. But in my professional opinion? Shower more, and keep taking your iodine." 

 

She shook her head. "At this rate, I'm going to have to charge extra consultation fees for fixing everyone's problems. They just don't teach you this in medical school..." She hummed to herself as she stepped back past the partition. 

 

He waited for a moment, before he hopped out. At least she didn't give him weird fish-food smelling pills this time.

 

~

 

After the doctor's visit, he had nothing on the list. Training was done for the day. Roadhog was probably off reading. That scamp was reading the entire works of Dostoyevsky, and hated being distracted. Junkrat sighed. "This would be so much easier if I could just _blow it up_ ," Junkrat said. Except, he couldn't just _blow up_ his girl troubles, like he blew up everything else that got in his way.

 

Wait...Could he?

 

Junkrat snuck into the briefing room with a snicker; he never could pass this place without a laugh and an underwear joke. He took a sharpie, and after several smiley faces, penises, breasts, and hastily scrawled asses, a stroke of brilliance came to him.

 

"Wait a minute, of course! Junkrat, you're a genius! I'll just _blow it up again!_ ”

 

~

 

The courtyard was empty, for once. Junkrat paced. As a junker, he knew all too well that one crossed wire could mean death. Timing was everything.

 

He'd left a note. If she ignored it, or even worse, if someone else came, well, they'd have a right bloody mess. Metaphorically, not literally, though. 

 

Just as she stepped through those arches, Junkrat waved. "G'day, Mei!"

 

"What is--"

 

Like a snow globe, the bomb shot off white confetti and glitter. It came down slow, fluttering all around them.

 

Her face lit up. It was like liquid sunshine. He'd finally got it, that smile, all his. His chest felt tight, and it wasn't even his heart stopping again. Or at least he was pretty sure the ol' ticker hadn't stopped. Everything was weird lately, and it wasn't even the radiation poisoning.

 

"What, thought you might like a taste of home. You like those snowy places, right? Personally I can't stand them, but then, I don't got a nice winter coat like you do!"

 

Mei gazed around in wonder. "It's like we're inside a snowglobe..."

 

"It's much kinder than the winters I've been through.” She sneezed, but broke into laughter. "It just keeps falling." She held out her arms to catch the glittery "snow".

 

"Don't go catching snowflakes with your tongue. It wouldn't taste too good. Oh, this was a small bomb, basically a baby, like the type I use to make S'mores. Couldn't have blown through the walls if I tried. Now, if I'd gone for the maximum snowglobe, we would've had a mini-ice age."

 

Mercy, and all the janitors probably, would've killed him for that. It was still a 50-50 chance they might for _this_ stunt. 

 

Glitter fell from her bun. He reached out, without even thinking, and brushed it from her hair. 

 

"You had something in your--" He motioned up.

 

"A bug?" she said.

 

"No, glitter. Glitter all over. It's never going to get out of here. Good thing I did this outside."

 

"This was nice of you, but-- you're still not a good person. I don't trust your intentions with Overwatch."

 

Junkrat shrugged. "No, that's because I'm a _great_ person."

 

Her brow furrowed. "With questionable morals. I've never seen anyone with such a long list of crimes!" she said.

 

"Yeah, it was some accomplishment, huh? That just makes me much more fun at parties! You wouldn't believe the amount of noisemakers I can fit in these shorts. Trust me, I didn't believe it either--" He reached down. "Bomb, bomb, bomb, oh, there's the dollar I was looking for, and noisemakers!" 

 

"You're just going to betray everyone, and go back," she said. Her voice sounded so sad. He wanted to punch whoever made her feel like that.

 

Then he remembered it was him. Well, it wouldn't be the first time he clocked himself. 

 

"Now, that's a harsh judgment. I'd like to think I'm turning over a new leaf."

 

He handed her a noisemaker. "Isn't that what all the people with snow do around the New Years? We don't have many holidays around there. Too busy trying to survive."

 

"It's not New Years for a while, and it is even further from Chinese New Year," she said. 

 

"Oh, but you see, _any time_ is a good time for a new beginning. You could even say that any kind of fresh start is like a New Year's in its own right. So, what'd you say we make a new beginning?" He held out a noisemaker. 

 

She considered him for a moment. Finally, she took the noisemaker and spun it. "Then, Happy Future New Year, Junkrat."

 

And it was the sweetest sound he'd ever heard, other than an explosion. He even got a smile, a real smile, all for him. A shame he hadn't gotten the moment on camera. He'd just have to try real hard and remember this moment, past the radiation creeping in and turning parts of him black, and gone.

 

"You could call me Jamison, considering it's my name and all. The other's just a nickname," Junkrat said. He gave her a loopy grin.

 

"Then Happy Future New Year, Jamison. But know that, if you betray us… if you betray _me_ then you will regret it. I will make you regret it. Am I clear?"

 

"Crystal. Wow, is it hot in here? Because I just got _burned_." He pulled at the strap at his chest, and pretended to fan himself. "You could even say that was _ice cold_."

 

"I'm serious, Jamison. Don't _blow_ it," she said. 

 

"Oh, I promise, it'll be _explosive,_ " Junkrat said. "You could even say, it's A-Mei-zing," Junkrat said, with a wink.

 

Mei crossed her arms. "Hey, that's my line," she said. 

 

"Just borrowed it for a bit, it was too good to resist."

 

He took a sip from his flask.

 

"It's a bit early to be drinking," she said.

 

"Oh, that? It's just some bubble tea. I love the stuff. Half sweet." He licked his lips.

 

"You've been drinking my Bubble tea? Here I was thinking it was Winston!" she said.

 

"That's yours?" he said in utter delight. "Then we've got lots to talk about."

 

Her arms were still crossed. He was obviously losing ground, and he'd just almost won her over. What could he say, he was really good at making situations explode. He'd just barely gotten to the point where she wasn't icy to him, and then he slid right back. 

 

"I thought it was just provided by the company! ...I'll pay for it! Then we can have twice as much bubble tea. Now there's a win."

 

Finally, she uncrossed her arms. "I can't argue with that."

 

"Speaking of things that you can't argue with--" He flipped up the last bomb. Would he call them party bombs, or maybe snowflake bombs? The last one had a good ring to it. A shame he couldn't patent these things, what with his real long arrest record and all. 

 

Confetti and white glitter rained down over them. She held her hands out to catch the 'snow' and grinned big. "I can't argue with that!"

 

And that smile of hers, it made everything worth it.


End file.
